Part 5 (1/2)
Remembering his previous rebuffs he intended to take no notice, but the young Austrian nodded at him and smiled.
”I see that you flee,” he said in his broken French, ”and you do well to flee. Europe is aflame.”
”That's so,” said John, ”and, since it's no fire of ours, we Americans mean to be on the Atlantic foam, as soon as we can.”
As there was a vacant seat in the compartment and Kempner seemed very friendly now, John sat down to talk a little. He longed occasionally for companions.h.i.+p of his own age, and his heart warmed again to the young Austrian.
”I see that you're running, too,” said John.
”Yes,” smiled Kempner. ”I'm a man of peace, a painter, or rather I would be one, and as my heart is a little weak I'm not drawn for military service. I'm on my way to Munich, where I mean to study the galleries.”
”I'm going to Munich, too,” said John. ”So we can travel together.”
”Then if we expect to reach Munich we'd better jump out now. Quick!”
”What for?”
”It seems that this is the Austrian border, and trains are not crossing it now, owing to the mobilization. A German train has come to meet us.
Look, most of the pa.s.sengers have transferred already!”
John saw his uncle and Mr. Anson standing on the steps of the German train and looking about vainly for him. There had been no announcement of the change, and, annoyed, he ran down the corridor and sprang to the ground, closely followed by Kempner.
”Pa.s.sporten! pa.s.sporten!” shouted some one, putting a strong hand on his arm.
John saw his uncle and Mr. Anson going into the German train, evidently thinking that he was inside, and his alarm increased.
”Amerikanischer! Amerikanischer!” he said to the Austrian officer, who was holding his arm and demanding his pa.s.sport. The officer shook his head and spoke voluble German. John did not understand it, but he knew that the man at such a time would insist upon seeing his pa.s.sport.
Kempner just behind him was in the same bad case.
The whistle of departure sounded from the train, and John, in despair, tore at the pa.s.sport in an inside pocket. He saw that the officer would never be able to read it in time, and he endeavored to s.n.a.t.c.h himself from the detaining grasp. But the Austrian hung on firmly.
As he fairly thrust the doc.u.ment in the face of the official he saw the wheels of the coaches moving.
”I'll come on the next train!” he shouted to the air.
The officer looked over the pa.s.sport deliberately and handed it back.
The train was several hundred yards down the track.
”Now, yours,” he said to Kempner, and the young man pa.s.sed it to him.
”August Wilhelm Kempner,” said the officer, and then he added, looking the young man squarely in the eye: ”I happen to know August William Kempner who lives in Vienna and he bears no resemblance to you. How do you happen to have his pa.s.sport?”
”That I won't explain to you,” said the false Kempner, and suddenly he struck him a stunning blow on the temple with his clenched fist.
The officer, strong though he was, went down unconscious.
”Run! Run! Follow me!” exclaimed the young man. ”They'll think you were my comrade and it may mean your death!”